


Sell It

by mishallaneously



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishallaneously/pseuds/mishallaneously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't know if he really wants to the concert alone, especially not when his ex is the one that bought him the ticket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sell It

Dean had been looking forward to this concert for months. Hell, he’d been fantasizing about it since he was a kid. When he opened up his birthday present and saw two tickets to see Robert Plant in concert he almost cried. It was going to be the perfect evening, great music, great atmosphere, great company. It was going to be legendary, Dean told himself. And it would’ve been if Lisa hadn’t broken it off with him a month before.

Now, the night of, Dean found himself staring at his lone ticket, debating whether he should even bother. Going to a concert alone was a bummer, but going with the still healing wound of a break up was shit. And that whole thing about how Lisa had bought him the ticket was just icing on the cake. His skin itched with guilt whenever he even considered going.

Despite how he mentally debated the issue over his dinner of reheated two day old spaghetti, Dean decided to say fuck it and go enjoy himself, loneliness and guilt be damned. This was meant to be a birthday present, after all.

Things were going well so far. Dean strolled to the front doors of the venue wearing his practically threadbare Led Zeppelin t shirt and that pair of black jeans that clung to him in all the right places. All of his stress and trepidation seemed to evaporate as soon as his ticket scanned with a successful little beep and he walked inside. This was happening. Dean’s grin spread wider than it had in awhile. Well, definitely wider than in a month.

He was early, like, really early. But hey, floor ticket to Robert fucking Plant. If Dean was doing this then he was going all out. He was determined to brave mushroom clouds of pot smoke and failed attempts at crowd surfing so long as he could get close enough for Robert Plant to at least sweat on him.

Obscenely early apparently wasn’t obscenely early enough, Dean grumbled internally as he joined the ranks on the floor. He was probably four rows of people deep, which, hey, not bad. But four rows back an hour and half before the first opener went on? Not the greatest. He shrugged to himself and sipped his lukewarm eight dollar beer.

Dean’s beer cup was long forgotten on the floor, crushed beneath countless toes tapping to the beat of different songs by the time the crew was setting up the stage for the second opener. Dean longingly eyed the crumpled remains of his cup, or what he assumed was his cup. This was the time a concert buddy would really come in handy. But he was stuck here in the thick of it. Leaving for another drink would mean sacrificing his spot. He licked his dry lips and resolutely folded his arms across his chest, determined to make it through to showtime and to get as close as possible.

A disgruntled murmur coursed its way through the crowd around him at about the time the second opener was supposed to go on. Dean craned his neck to see what was happening. Someone was trying to get through the crowd.

“Sorry! My boyfriend is right up there I swear!” A female voice sounded as people begrudgingly sidestepped to let her through. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew this trick. There was no way this woman had anyone up there. He’d tried it himself a few times. It even worked more times than not. She was making her way up to where he was. How had people let this happen? Sneaking into the middle was one thing, but up to the first five rows of people was a different animal completely.

“No really, he’s right up there.” He heard the woman say. “Matthew, raise your arm up!” She called. Dean’s heart stopped for a second. The voice sounded familiar, but… 

“I’m right here! Me, Matthew!” A man two rows up from Dean responded. People stepped aside more easily for the woman then.

Dean went back to minding his own business and biding his time until the band came on when he felt people shifting behind him and heard feminine muttered “excuse me’s.” Dean gulped as he saw the woman came into view. His heart sank. Of course she was here. Why wouldn’t she be? Maybe if he just kept his head down she wouldn’t notice.

She was in the middle of snaking her way through his row, two beers in her hands, when she stepped on his foot and Dean’s cover was blown. 

“Dean?” Lisa Braeden asked, scanning his face as if it wouldn’t actually be him.

“The one and only.” Dean replied stiffly. This was awkward and not just because she had recently stomped all over his beating heart, let alone his currently throbbing left foot, that was definitely a factor, but the close proximity was the kicker. Lisa was practically pressed against Dean and the ebb and flow of the crowd was pushing them closer together.

“Oh, well, it’s nice to uh, see you.” Her cheeks were rosy and her hair was slightly disheveled. Dean hated that he had the urge to brush it behind her ear. Old habits. She made to leave and Dean was more than ready for her to be gone so he could exhale the breath he was holding.

“Yeah, you bet. Enjoy the show.” Dean said through gritted teeth. Lisa nodded as she squeezed past him. He caught a whiff of that perfume she always wore, the one that he could still smell a trace of on some of his pillows, and his resolve crumbled. Before he could stop himself Dean opened his mouth again. “Tell ol’ Matthew hi for me, would you?” There was an edge to his voice that she definitely didn’t miss and Lisa visibly stiffened.

She turned around then, her mouth turned down in a slight frown and her forehead creased as if she was working out what to say. Right as she opened her mouth the guy next to Dean sighed loudly in exasperation.

“Could you hurry the fuck up, please?”

“Of course, sorry,” Lisa met Dean’s eyes one more time before she began to shuffle off in the direction of her spot in the crowd and the man that she had left Dean for.

“I’m happy for you, Lis, I really am.” Dean called after her, his voice trailing off slightly at the end, the insincerity of it catching in his throat. He missed her, of course, but the pain of her leaving had lessened to a dull ache in the month he had to acclimate to her absence. What really stung was how quickly she had moved on. Or when exactly she had decided to move on.

Dean knew where this train of thought led and he wished he could turn on the brakes or at least divert the tracks, but it was already chugging along, full steam ahead. He had never meant anything to her, had he? Was all of the two years they spent together a sham? Dean knew he was being melodramatic, but it was hard to see a long term girlfriend casually referring to another guy as her boyfriend at a fucking Robert Plant concert when they’d only been broken up for four weeks. Not to mention the whole thing where this was supposed to be his birthday present. She had to have assumed Dean would be here.

The lights dimmed then and the next band started their set loud enough to stir Dean from his pit of self deprecation. This was fine, he breathed in a deep, calming breath. He was going to see his idol in concert, he needed to let the negativity go.

Despite how he tried, throughout the entire set Dean kept glancing at the back of Lisa’s new boyfriend’s head. He had a full head of blonde hair and Dean resented each follicle. He was wearing a pink collared shirt, who did he think he was? He was probably wearing boat shoes, too. What a complete dick.

The set was just about over which meant that Robert Plant was that much closer to being on stage and Dean was jittery with excitement. He had managed to worm his way up another row, stepping on his abused plastic cup as he went. The only downside was he was closer to Lisa.

The crowd began to shift again. There were more grumbles this time. A guy was trying to make his way through the crowd. Dean could make out a mop of unruly dark brown hair and a the beginnings of a Led Zeppelin t shirt before the crowd marred him from view. There was no way he was getting through at this point, poor sap.

“My boyfriend is up there, I swear to god.” He heard the man grunt as the crowd again shifted to accommodate this new body. Some guy was giving him trouble, as he should, Dean mused. “Look, okay, two beers. Why would I leave my spot to get two beers if I didn’t have a very thirsty significant other holding my place?”

The person was apparently convinced because the conversation stopped. Dean’s focus turned back to the stage where the band was just finishing. The drummer was twirling his drumstick in the air, probably looking for someone to throw it to.

“Look, as I’ve told the last two hundred people before you, my boyfriend is up there, and I’d like to get back to him.” A similar conversation was happening close to Dean. He could even make out the other person’s voice now.

“No way am I going to buy that bullshit.” It was a woman’s voice. There was an arrogant lilt to her voice that made Dean’s skin crawl. “Sorry, handsome, none shall pass.”

“That’s ludicrous.”

“So is the very idea that you’re off the market.” Dean couldn’t help looking out of the corner of his eye to see what was going on. This woman with a sultry smokey eye and long dark curly hair was running her finger up the guy’s bicep. She looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

“Unfortunately, I am. And, most regrettably, even if I wasn’t, you don’t have the proper equipment to even be a consideration.” The man was lean and tan and Dean felt a little pang of resentment for whatever lucky guy that other beer was for.  

“Don’t be coy,” the woman took a drag of her cigarette and puffed a ring of smoke into the man’s face. He coughed.

“Look, this has been a pleasure, but I really ought to get back.” This woman wasn’t having a word of it and leaned further into his personal space.

Dean could barely make out wide, panicked blue eyes searching desperately for a way out. He felt bad for the guy, but hey, what did he expect trying to get through a crowd of Zep fans right before Plant was due on stage? He was about to turn away when the guy’s eyes locked on his. He’d been caught staring. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment but he didn’t tear his eyes away. The other man’s eyebrows quirked up slightly and Dean could’ve sworn there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“Please, miss, he’s right there.” The guy nodded his head toward Dean whose mouth immediately went dry. He hadn’t heard him right. “That’s my boyfriend.”

The woman whirled around and glared daggers at Dean. As if admitting defeat, she unhooked her long fingers from around the man’s arm and turned her attention to someone else. Dean tore his eyes away and went back to minding his own business. He’d somehow helped the man in some infinitesimal way, but he was done.

 “Did you not just see that interaction? Honestly, he’s right there. You see him? The one with the light brown hair. Yeah, him.” The back of Dean’s neck felt hot. Why was this guy using him? For fuck’s sake, he could feel a bunch of people’s eyes boring holes into his back.

The band had all walked off the stage except for the drummer. He was walking around with his drumsticks, looking for an eager person to toss it to. Unfortunately, no one really gave a shit. Dean, eager to distance himself from any association with Blue Eyes back there, shot his hand up. The drummer noticed him instantly. And so did Blue Eyes.

“Right there! See! He’s waving his hand, yup, that’s my ball and chain right there.” Dean heard from behind him. He groaned. Maybe this was the end.

“Everyone! I am making my way toward my significant other, the man with his arm raised, I’m not trying to trick you!” Of course he had to make an announcement. The drummer finally threw the stick, which Dean caught easily, and Dean thankfully dropped his hand down.

But the damage was already done; countless eyes were turned toward Dean. Including Lisa’s and Boat Shoes’. Dean waved sheepishly. He was going to kill that guy and his fucking blue eyes.

Then, there was a hand on Dean’s shoulder. A large, masculine hand. Dean eyed it and followed it up to a tanned forearm that was connected to a leanly muscled bicep which led to a grinning face filled with twinkling blue eyes and topped off with a head of dark hair. Dean wanted to punch him right in his beautiful cheekbones. He refrained, only managing to swallow thickly.

 “I figure I owe you a beer,” the guy said, handing Dean a plastic cup filled with amber liquid. “Sweetie.” He added and knocked their shoulders together playfully. The drumstick, now abandoned, clattered to the floor and joined the ranks of empty cups. Dean sipped the beer cautiously, thankful for something to do.

“I don’t mean to be forward,” he continued, slinging his arm around Dean’s shoulders. “But I feel like I ought to really drive this thing home, y’know?”

“Oh, do you?” Dean quirked an eyebrow. The man was close enough that the slightly spicy scent of his deodorant stung Dean’s nostrils. Dean licked his lips.

“Yes. Really sell it.” Dean couldn’t help himself as his eyes were drawn to the stranger’s lips. The initial discomfort seemed to have dissipated and been replaced with an electric kind of anticipation. Dean’s hand was clammy around the plastic cup.  

Dean didn’t know what was wrong with him. He could usually flirt up a storm, all cocky bravado and salacious winks that made people weak in the knees. But right now, he was feeling weak kneed himself.

The stranger, as if sensing Dean’s hesitance, drew slightly apart. There was a kindness to his face, a softness that Dean hadn’t seen before.

“What will really get them is this,” he said as he grasped Dean’s hand in his. His hand was soft, nothing like the rough, callused terrain of Dean’s hands.

“Man, you’re like, a master of deception,” Dean said sarcastically, finally finding his voice.

“I’m a jack of many trades,” and he winked.

Their hands remained clasped in this intimate kind of hand holding that Dean associated with couples, the kind where all of the fingers were intertwined, slotted in the gaps of the other person’s fingers like two halves of a whole finally being reunited. Dean nursed his beer, he was overthinking things.

Then, the guy released Dean’s hand. Dean flexed his fingers, slightly missing the warmth.

“I figure I’ve been awfully rude here.” He stuck out his hand, which Dean grasped- no entwining this time around. “I’m Cas. Castiel for long, if you’d prefer it. Most people don’t.” He shrugged.

“Dean.”

“Thanks uh, for that.” Cas said, shrugging. The air of confidence seemed to have evaporated. “I’m a big fan, like huge, you know? My mom- she used to sing me their songs before- well, it’s beside the point but anyway, big fan.” He gestured to his shirt. He met Dean’s eyes then, they were blue and wide and Dean was worried he wouldn’t want to tear his eyes away.

Cas cleared his throat and started again. “Right so, we covered the big fan thing where was I, um.” Dean grinned, did he make Cas as flustered as Cas made him? “Oh! So yeah, basically I’d been planning out this concert for months. I had this entire evening mapped out- how early I was going to get here, what I was going to wear- but my car broke down. And my brother is the least reliable person and was my only alternative-”

“Cas, man, I don’t mean to interrupt this Pulitzer worthy story, but why are you telling me this?” Cas blushed. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was just some asshole who showed up late and tried to get to the front. I didn’t want you to uh,” his shoes became incredibly interesting as he focused on his feet, “think that I used you. That I was selfish.” He punctuated the statement with a shrug.

“I don’t think you’re selfish, Cas,” Dean replied. “I mean, at first I kinda thought you were an asshole, but what you had to endure to get here was penance enough.”

Cas groaned. “You saw that, right? I was practically molested on my way over here.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Guess you should reign in those good looks.” Dean winced as the words left his mouth.

Cas cocked an eyebrow at him, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “Are you trying to tell me that my fake boyfriend thinks I’m cute?”

“Eh, your fake boyfriend could probably do better,” Dean grinned. Cas elbowed him in the side, driving him into the person next to him, a big burly guy with arms thicker than Dean’s thigh.

“Sorry, man,” Dean said, hands placating. “The kids over there are trying to mosh.” The man grunted in agreement. “They got no respect these days.” When he fixed his attention elsewhere, Dean turned to Cas.

“You ass,” Dean hissed.

The setup process between bands didn’t feel as long with someone to talk to. And Dean found Cas really easy to talk to. Really easy to look at too, but that was irrelevant. Dean didn’t even find himself thinking of Lisa once. All he could focus on was the memory of Cas’ palm in his and the twinkle in his blue eyes.

“We should try to squeeze up into the next row,” Cas whispered; there was a mischievous quirk to his smile.

“Dude, I like the optimism, but it’s packed.” Dean scanned the crowd. His eyes landed on neatly cut blonde hair and the pink collared shirt. “Also, we can’t cause my ex girlfriend and the guy she probably cheated on me with are up there.”

Cas kinda stepped away from Dean then, giving him more space. He looked a little stricken. “Dean, are you not- I’m so sorry, I just presumed-”

“Relax, Casanova, I swing both ways.” Cas’ shoulders visibly relaxed then and he seemed to breathe a bit easier. He smiled sheepishly. Dean continued, “I’m just not really into interacting with her anymore than I already have, hell, I had enough trouble even convincing myself to come here tonight.”

Cas cocked his head to the side, intently listening and waiting for Dean to elaborate. So he did. He told Cas, this virtual stranger who he felt more at ease with than most of the people he’d known for ages, all about the breakup. He went into detail about how Lisa had been distant and Dean had thought it was him and then how she just left. There one day, gone the next, with just a really painful text letting him know that it was over. And how he had seen her here tonight with one of the Brady Bunch and it had all made sense.

Cas must have hated his luck right now. He’d picked the most pathetic, emotionally unstable guy to hang out with at this concert. Then the lights dimmed and the light buzz of the crowd gave way to deafening roars of excitement.

There was a hand on Dean’s shoulder then and he met Cas’ eyes. Cas pulled Dean into a slight hug and Dean felt more at home in those arms than he probably had any right to.

Cas said something into Dean’s hair but Dean couldn’t hear it over the sound of the crowd.

“What did you say?” He shouted. 

“I said you deserve better than Lisa,” Cas responded just as loud, if not louder, right as the noise died down.

“Dude, that was loud.” Dean whispered, his head ducked down. Cas was doing the same, he winced.

“Is everyone looking at us?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

Cas nodded solemnly, grabbed Dean’s hand and raised his head cautiously. Dean followed suit and sure enough, hundreds of people were looking in their general direction. Especially Lisa Braeden and Boat Shoes. 

“Man, if looks could kill,” Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Truly.”

“So I take it Lisa’s a real piece of work?” Dean and Cas’ eyes shot up to the stage. Robert Plant was looking at them with an amused grin. Dean and Cas looked at each other. That’s why everything got quiet so suddenly. Cas’ outburst had interrupted Robert Plant.

“She’s not the best, no,” Dean yelled up to the stage. Robert threw his head back in laughter at that one.

He smiled then, still eyeing the two of them. Dean could feel the whole crowd looking. This was surreal. He saw Lisa fuming out of the corner of his eye and it felt like the most beautiful retribution.

“Well, kid, you better find someone worth it.” Then he picked up his guitar and all the attention was off of them.

Cas squeezed Dean’s hand. He was beaming, full on thousand watt smile. And Dean didn’t know why it meant so much to him or why his heart felt so full that it was threatening to burst, but he knew, shockingly, that it had nothing to do with Robert Plant.

“Still think we need to sell it?” Dean shouted to Cas over the music. 

Cas failed to hide his sly smile before answering, “Why, you think people know I lied?”

“I dunno, we can’t be too careful. Don’t want you getting thrown out, especially since we have such a close friendship with Robert Plant now.”

Cas nodded solemnly. “That would be a travesty. We definitely need to sell it more.” And then he winked and Dean mentally said screw it, leaned down and pressed their lips together. 

It was a gentle brush of the lips at first. But the crowd moving around them pushed them closer together and Dean’s hand found Cas’ hip and then he was lost in the feeling of soft, full lips and then his other hand was entangled in locks of thick brown hair. Dean’s senses were overwhelmed by the feel of Cas, the ebb and flow of their libs mixed with the slight burn of stubble, and the sound of his favorite artist playing in the background.

They broke apart finally and Cas’ lips were red and his cheeks were rosy. He looked up at Dean, slightly stunned, and he blinked slowly. A small smile spread on his lips. “You think they bought it?”

“You can never be too careful.” And Dean kissed him again.

  



End file.
